


Fallen

by chelsjadexox



Category: Supernatural
Genre: SPN - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 14:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2624798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelsjadexox/pseuds/chelsjadexox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel really wasn't coming back this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fallen

“Dean?” Sam’s voice was the only sound in the bunker, the eerie silence that had surrounded them for the past three days finally becoming too much for the younger Winchester brother to handle. Three days. It had been three days since he’d seen his brother leave the confines of his bedroom. He wasn’t eating, showering, speaking. The tightness in Sam’s chest hadn’t loosened as he expected it would, and he knew the only way he would be even remotely okay was if he at least heard his brother’s voice.

“So I’ve been going through the lore and I think there might be a way to…”

“Go away, Sammy.” The sound of Dean’s exhausted voice from the other side of the door, no matter how wounded it sounded, sent a rush of relief through Sam’s body. The younger of the two rested his head against the closed wooden door, taking deep two breaths as he carefully chose what to say next.

“Dean it’s been three days…” Sam started, chewing on the inside of his bottom lip, partially terrified that anything he said would make the given situation worse; had that been possible. Sam raised his eyebrows as he waited for any sign of a response from the other side of the door.

It wasn’t completely unrecognisable to Sam why his brother was taking this death hard, though he was beginning to wonder why this wasn’t the way his brother reacted to their father’s death. Was this what state Dean was in whilst Sam was in hell? Was he this affected by their mothers death?

“Look, man.” Sam started, running a hand through his dirty hair as he balanced the grilled cheese he’d made for his brother in the palm of his free hand carefully. “Don’t you think Cas would have wanted for you to keep…“ The door snapped open before him, catching him off guard and nearly causing the food to fall from his hand to the floor.

“Don’t you _dare_ , Sam.” Dean growled, his eyes dark and full of pure emotion. The younger of the two looked his brother up and down, taking in the dishevelled mess before him.

“Man you’ve got to eat or shower or…”

“I can’t.” Dean sighed, walking past his brother and into the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water and pulled his body up onto the kitchen counter with a quiet groan. His whole body ached. He ached.

“Look I know you and Cas were close and all but I don’t…”

“You need to stop.” Dean warned, interrupting Sam again while shooting him a glare. _If looks could kill_ Sam thought to himself.

“Why are you taking this so hard, man?” Dean felt his lips pull up over his teeth as he threw the glass he was holding back into the kitchen sink, not reacting in the slightest when it bounced out and smashed all over the floor between him and Sam.

“We’re not having this conversation.” Sam groaned loudly in response, stopping Dean in his tracks as he turned to look at his little brother with an expression that screamed _really?_

“Just… God is it really so hard to just talk to me?” Sam asked, his voice raised and full of both misunderstanding anger when he spoke. Dean swallowed harshly, his own emotions slowly starting to rise to the surface. He’d spent three days keeping himself in check, Sam would not be his downfall. Not Sam. “Why wasn’t it like this when dad died?”

“Are you sure that’s where you want to take this, Sam?” Dean asked, turning his whole body to face his brother who was staring at him with a look of both sympathy and empathy at once. Sam raised his eyebrows in faux defeat, throwing his arms by his side to silently tell his brother he didn’t know what else to think or say. Without saying another word Dean lifted his shirt over his abdomen, tears burning behind his eyes as he gave his brother his first look at the burns scorched into Dean’s skin.

“Dean I didn’t…” Sam whispered with softened eyes as he took in the burn marks that were splayed out across his brother’s toned, dirty chest. Dean held his arms up so his brother could get a good look at him, all the while shooting glares at him. Three days ago he'd found himself on the ground with Castiel cradled in his arms, the angel slowly fading before his grace completely faded. All Dean remembered about that night was a white light, a white light and the most intense burning sensation he'd ever experienced. He ached. His body ached, his head ached and his heart, it ached the worst of all.

“What happens to angels when they die, Sam?" Dean asked his younger brother rhetorically, nodding down to the wing marks that were scorched into his skin.  Sam opened his mouth to speak; opting instead to stick with silence knowing anything he said would upset his brother more. In Sam’s defence, he had no idea Dean had been _holding_ Castiel when he died. He made note to ask how that happened at a better time though.

“This is why I am not eating your shitty grilled cheese and this is why you’re going to leave me the fuck alone.” Dean all but spat at his brother before pushing his shirt back down over his bare chest, making his way back to his bedroom and slamming the door nice and loudly behind him. Sam didn’t follow, his whole body instead heaving forward until he was leaning over the kitchen sink. He coughed once, twice, three times.

Dean walked straight into his ensuite without thinking, sucking in two deep breaths before he looked himself in the mirror. He flinched away from the broken man in front of him, hating the fact he’d let himself get so unkempt. Two more deep breaths and he was pulling his shirt up, his eyes scanning over the marks that were now deeply engraved onto his skin.

 “Please.” Dean whispered in a broken voice to no one in particular, a lump in his throat making the word come out as more of a sob than anything else. “Please, man.” He continued, his eyes squeezing shut as he desperately and silently prayed for the angel to come back and make it all stop hurting.

Castiel wasn’t coming back this time.

 


End file.
